Ceremony of Innocence
by Calliopeia17
Summary: When Obi-Wan tells a new bedtime story to a group of young initiates, he doesn't realize how the story will influence their lives. Has been discontinued.
1. Prologue: Turning and Turning

Hi everyone! This is my first fanfic, and I really, really, really would like to see some reviews. Please be nice and tell me what you think. Compliments, criticism, and even flames are welcome!  
  
Thanks, and enjoy!  
  
~Melanie  
  
Time frame: The actual story starts about halfway through Ep II; in the prologue, Obi-Wan is 22.  
  
Rating: PG-13-this is a war, there's going to be some violence.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars and no copyright infringement is intended. Sammi, Regan, and Ray are mine, though.  
  
CEREMONY OF INNOCENCE Prologue: Turning and Turning  
  
Obi-Wan Kenobi smiled cheerfully as he followed Knight Amila Kritios, the Crèche Master at the Jedi Temple, into a room of very endearing new initiates. At first glance, the twenty-two-year-old Padawan counted about twenty bright-eyed toddlers, all staring at him and the crèche master with wide eyes.  
  
"Well, little ones, this is Obi-Wan. He's come to read you some stories, and he'll be back every other night. Behave yourselves, now." With a comforting smile at Obi-Wan, she stepped out of the room, door hissing shut behind her. Obi-Wan looked down at the huddled children. His last volunteer assignment had been with another group of crèche babies who had graduated into Master Yoda's Younglings. After almost two years of watching twenty other children grow up, the Padawan wasn't apprehensive about taking on a new bunch, but these new little ones looked awfully shy.  
  
If they were new initiates, they'd be between two and four, typically an age at which little ones were shy around strangers. On the other hand, Force-strong Jedi youngsters tended to be very intelligent, and often talkative, once they got over their original wariness of new people. Obi- Wan collapsed gracelessly on one of the piles of cushions strewn about the floor, trying to put them at ease with him, and spoke softly.  
  
"Hi! I'm Obi-Wan! What are your names?" Silence. Then a tiny girl with white-gold hair as fine as featherdown raised a piping, treble voice.  
  
"I'm Thammi," she lisped, then gestured to a matching set of twins beside her, a boy and a girl with identical features and the same brandy-brown hair and eyes. "And thith ith Wegan and Way."  
  
Obi-Wan made some rapid mental translations, fitting names to faces in his head at the same time. The little blonde girl was Sammi, the twin girl Regan, the boy Ray. He didn't get a chance to think for long, because a clamor of shouted names was raised immediately after Sammi had stopped talking. He caught a few snippets of what he assumed were names, but nothing else.  
  
Standing up, he waved his arms wildly to get the giggling babies' attention. Silence ensued, and Obi-Wan was briefly surprised at how well- behaved they were. Of course, he realized, Force-sensitive children, aside from being intelligent, were generally polite, if often mischievious.  
  
"You're going to all have to talk one at a time, little ones, or I can't understand you," the Padawan rebuked with a smile to make sure they knew he wasn't angry. "Can we start over? What's your name again?" He gestured to Sammi.  
  
"I'm Thammi. I'm almotht thwee." The twins sitting beside her spoke up next.  
  
"I'm Regan," the tawny-headed girl proclaimed. "And this is Ray."  
  
"We're twins," announced her brother.  
  
With an example set, the tiny initiates began rattling off names as fast as Obi-Wan could keep up with them.  
  
"Ricca!" "I'm Saldri!" "I'm Karina!" "Telli!" "D'rash!" "Jacek!" "Jesalin!" "Coran!" "Bran!" The roll ended with a wide-eyed, dark-haired little boy who spoke only his name, "Aras," and promptly retreated under the quilt of his little cot.  
  
Obi-Wan found himself quite impressed with the children's ability to shake off their shyness and talk with him. He brought a bag full of his last group's favorite bedtime stories, and he now pulled them out.  
  
"All right, who wants to hear a story?"  
  
The response was affirmative. Loudly so.  
  
"Well, what do you want to hear? I have "The Little Lost Bantha Cub," "Me and My Droid," "A Tale of a Pilot." the Padawan trailed off, looking for any interest.  
  
"Tell us a story about a knight," one of the little boys insisted imperiously.  
  
"But there has to be a princess," Sammi reminded him.  
  
"And an evil bad guy!" "And a scary dungeon!" More voices piped in.  
  
"All right, little ones, you want a story about an knight and princess?" They nodded. Obi-Wan was pressed for a moment. Most of the other initiates to whom he had told stories preferred to hear familiar picture books, not complicated made-up fairy tales. He knew the perfect story, though, knew it by heart. It was one that Qui-Gon had told to him when he was younger, not yet too old for bedtime stories, and it had all the elements the little ones had asked for. Unconsciously, he took on the same stance and storytelling timbre as his master always had, and began the tale.  
  
"Once upon a time," he began, "there lived a young peasant farmer who longed to have an adventure. His name was Jett, and his greatest dream was to become a knight.  
  
"Jett lived with his aunt and uncle, because his father and mother had died many years ago in a great war, but his uncle disapproved of Jett's dreams. "Knights don't do nothing but go and get themselves killed," he always said. No matter how his uncle grumbled, though, Jett never lost hope.  
  
"Working hard on his uncle's farm, Jett grew to be a strong, hardworking man, but he never gave up on his dream. Someday, he promised himself, he would be a knight and ride away on his noble steed and have great and wonderful adventures. He never expected adventure to come in the form it did."  
  
The little ones were completely engrossed in the story by this point, not even fidgeting as small children are wont to do.  
  
"Jett and his uncle went to town to go hire some workers to help them with the harvest. There they met a short, stubby little man named Art, and a tall, blonde man named Theo, who offered to help Jett and his uncle for quite a reasonable price. Art and Theo accompanied Jett back to the farm, where, in the process of helping them get settled in, the young farmer glimpsed part of a hastily scribbled message among Art's bags.  
  
"'Help me, Sir Tirabi,' it read, "You're my only hope.' When Jett asked Art about the letter, the short man said briefly that it was part of a message for a knight named Sir Tirabi who lived in the forest near Jett's farm, and that he had been hoping to get the chance to deliver it. Jett didn't know of anyone named Sir Tirabi in the woods, which were peopled only by dangerous tiger-men, as far as he knew, and thought nothing more of the message until later that evening.  
  
"Theo came banging on Jett's door, saying that Art had run off into the forest to go and deliver his letter. 'What?' Jett exclaimed. "He'll be eaten by tiger-men for sure! We'd better go after him!" And he raced into the forest.  
  
"Jett and Theo did indeed meet up with Art in the forest, when the three were promptly attcked by the deadly tiger-men. All of a sudden, they were saved, as an old knight charged into the fray, scattering the monsters. They returned to his hut and he introduced himself as Sir Tirabi, one of the few knights who had escaped when the dark sorcerer Raymoth began a quest to kill them all. Then Art read aloud his message, a note from a beautiful princess who had been captured by Raymoth."  
  
Obi-Wan tried to make the heroes' search for a ship to take them across the dangerous ocean to rescue the princess sound as perilous and creepy as Qui- Gon always, had, and he soon had the little ones wide-eyed with his description of the swaggering, boastful young captain of the charter boat they found. With the initiates glued to his every word and expression, he told of the trip across the ocean, landing entirely by accident on the shores of the sorcerer's secret island after a violent storm. Obi-Wan described how Sir Tirabi had begun to teach Jett how to be a knight, and how, once the princess had been rescued from the dank, rat-infested dungeon, (Obi-Wan went into great detail on this description, and the children loved it, shivering with horror at the flesh-eating rats he had made up on the spot) Sir Tirabi dueled the sorcerer Raymoth and was killed.  
  
"But," Obi-Wan continued, "this was not the end for our heroes. Instead, they managed to get back on their ship and escape, sailing to the princess's kingdom, where she had an army ready to attack Raymoth and save the world from his evil. Jett joined in the battle, and, when all hope looked lost, managed to destroy the entire fortress by pulling out a stone from the wall. Just when Raymoth thought he was victorious, the whole castle fell on his head." The little ones giggled at this. Prudently, Obi-Wan left out the alternate ending that Qui-Gon had added when the Padawan was twelve or so and had asked for more exciting, gruesome "stuff" in his bedtime story. Qui-Gon's creative description of Raymoth's gory demise had given Obi-Wan nightmares, which Qui-Gon had promptly chased away with gentle words, and some comforting advice about not wanting things to be too gruesome.  
  
The initiates were in awe. For a single moment, as Obi-Wan concluded the story, they remained perfectly quiet in that special instant of silence that every performer lives for, and Obi-Wan couldn't stifle an elated grin. As soon as the older Padawan moved, though, the little ones started to fidget, and Obi-Wan decided that it was time for bed.  
  
"All right, who want to get tucked in?" he asked cheerfully, and was met with a chorus of affirmatives. The children scrambled into their cots, and Obi-Wan went to each one separately and tucked the soft cotton-synth blankets around each little body. Sammi's cot was the last in the row, and as he whispered a soft "sweet dreams, little one," to her, she twined her arms around his neck. Laughing softly, he untangled her, but paused to brush a soft, brotherly kiss across the toddler's delicate hair before dimming the lights, whispering one last 'good night,' and slipping out the door. 


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One Turning and turning in the widening gyre  
  
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;  
  
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;  
  
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,  
  
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere  
  
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;  
  
The best lack all convictions, while the worst  
  
Are full of passionate intensity. -William Butler Yeats, "The Second Coming"  
  
Fourteen Years Later  
  
Sammi bounded noisily into the chambers she shared with her Master, Amila, after her first day working with the crèche babies. Amila still served as the crèche master, but had taken the fair-headed girl as her Padawan when the child had shown great aptitude with smaller children, hoping to train the girl to someday take her place. At first, Sammi had been afraid that her training as a Jedi would be shorted as Amila's Padawan, but had been proven wrong the first time she had dueled the motherly Master in the training salle. If anything, Sammi's training was more rigorous than that of anyone else her age, since she had to take both the normal training lessons and those with the babies.  
  
After the first full day of working with the initiates, Sammi found herself remembering clearly the day when Obi-Wan Kenobi had first come to read stories to her crèche group. The group of toddlers had spent the last fourteen years growing up together, and had remained friends, both with each other and with Obi-Wan and his new Padawan, Anakin Skywalker. In fact, only two of the original twenty in the group no longer remained with them; D'rash had died tragically in a training accident that had left the group mourning for nearly a year, and Jesalin had left the temple at the request of her birth family, a noble House on Chandrila. None of the other initiates had known any family but the Jedi, or any friends of their age group but the others of their tight-knit band.  
  
Fourteen years of friendship allowed for some concessions, so Sammi was unsurprised when her best friend Regan and Regan's twin brother Ray barged in without knocking. Sammi's master, Amila, was still the crèche, and so was not available to comment either on Sammi's earlier ungraceful entrance, or that of her friends, though, had the Master been present, she would have spared no sharp-tounged, well-meant retort. Though Regan and Ray had both chosen to do their volunteer hours at the crèche, as Obi-Wan had done before them, neither had the responsibilities that came with being apprenticed to the crèche master.  
  
Regan barreled into the sitting room where Sammi had dumped her bags in a pile on the floor. She took a running leap and bounced over the back of the comfortable sofa that faced the window overlooking the council spire of the Jedi Temple, landing on the soft cushions.  
  
"Hey, Sammi; how were the babies today?" the cheerful Padawan queried.  
  
Sammi scooped up a pile of picture books, then turned to face her friend. "As rambunctious as usual. You know this group; they're almost as bad as we were!"  
  
Ray, who had followed his sister into the room at a more leisurely pace laughed in remembrance. "How could they be? D'you remember that time when the three of us snuck out of the crèche in the middle of the night to steal cookies from the kitchen?"  
  
"And got caught by Obi-Wan and his friends who were down there for the same reason?" Regan chimed in. "Yeah, I remember that!"  
  
Sammi slid past the sofa with the pile of book in one hand, palmed the door to her room open with the other, and dumped the pile of books onto the sleep-couch that rested against on wall. The twins followed her in, Regan sitting cross-legged on the bed beside Sammi, who had pushed the books aside to make room. Ray, though always welcome in Sammi's room, tended to avoid the bed, pulling the chair from the computer terminal on the opposite wall and turning it to face his sister and her friend.  
  
"So, what's been going on in your lives?" Sammi asked brightly, changing the subject. The question was more or less a tradition for these after- class meetings, and one of twins always had a new story to tell her.  
  
"Well, nothing's new with me," began Ray, "but Master Koru was talking to the council last night, and he came home looking awfully worried."  
  
The girls sat up straighter, puzzlement on their faces. "You didn't tell me about this before," Regan pointed out.  
  
"I only just thought of it. We were at saber practice today, and Master Windu came in, asking to talk to Koru again. I heard some of what they said, but it didn't make any sense. They said a lot about the Senate, and they were talking about the Supreme Chancellor and something about Obi-Wan and a bounty hunter."  
  
Sammi shrugged. "Did it seem important?"  
  
"Well, they looked really worried, but I asked Master Koru and he said that I shouldn't worry; that the Council would take care of any problems," Ray replied, his brow furrowing with frustration. "I figured it was something about the Military Creation Act everyone's been up in arms about."  
  
Master Koru, the dark-haired Human Jedi who had taken Ray as his second Padawan, was, from what Sammi had heard, soon to be given one of the temporary seats on the council; anything he heard was likely to be important.  
  
"Maybe I'll ask him again tonight," Ray added, suddenly interrupted by the hiss of the door to the hallway rushing open, and Amila's footsteps in the sitting room.  
  
The motherly Master poked her head in the door, her brow knotted with some unknown frustration. "Are you all in here? Your master's been looking for you, Regan."  
  
The Padawan slapped her hand to her forehead. "Blast! I was supposed to meet Master Sacha in the training salle after my last class! I completely forgot!" She turned to her brother and Sammi. "I have to go; I'll see you both tomorrow!"  
  
As Regan rushed from the room, her twin appeared to be suppressing an amused smile at his sister's antics. Sammi laughed, but then the room grew awkwardly quiet.  
  
Simultaneously, both Padawans stood up and spoke.  
  
"I guess I should be going now."  
  
"I really should go talk to Master Amila."  
  
A nervous chuckle emitted from both of them, accompanied by a rising flush in both teenagers' faces. Ray toyed with a slip of paper on Sammi's desk; the girl turned to shuffle through the books that she had pushed to the side of her bed. They spoke again.  
  
"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
"I'll see you in physics tomorrow."  
  
Still, neither moved, though Ray's face was now the shade of a darksider's lightsaber, glow and all, and Sammi had never felt more awkward. Right at that moment, Amila poked her head in the door.  
  
"What's going on in here? It's awfully quiet!"  
  
Ray rushed to his feet, slid gracelessly past the surprised Master and was out into the sitting room, headed for the hallway when he spoke in a rushed, almost panicked tone. "I-I'll see you tomorrow," he paused, "Sammi." Another pause. "Uh," he stopped again, "bye!" In a moment, he was in the Temple's hallway, door hissing rapidly shut behind him. Amila just stared, and Sammi felt a blush to rival Ray's brilliant shade rising in her cheeks.  
  
"Well!" Amila exclaimed, her surprise fading into amusement. "Someone seems rather nervous."  
  
Sammi just spluttered, unable to produce a coherent thought, much less coherent speech. "I." she tried. She started again. "He." That didn't work either. "We." Even worse. She didn't even know why she was so embarrassed.  
  
Amila struggled to hide her amused smile. "Padawan, why don't you go and get cleaned up for dinner."  
  
"You-uh-aren't cooking, are you?" Sammi bantered, trying-and failing-to cover her embarrassment with old jokes.  
  
Amila laughed at the harmless repartee, trying to reduce her Padawan's teenaged mortification. "No, I ordered from the kitchens. But I thought you liked my cooking." She assumed a hurt expression for a moment, then allowed a motherly smile to smooth her face. "Go get cleaned up, hon."  
  
Sammi granted her Master a weak grin, then rushed into the 'fresher. As her Padawan disappeared from sight, Amila frowned. She didn't mind her apprentice's crush, but she had had very serious matters indeed to discuss with Sammi, and the girl's embarrassment would hinder the conversation that she knew they must have. The Jedi Master debated how to breach such a difficult subject to her sometimes painfully naïve Padawan, but realized that the girl's innocence would be tested nevertheless in the trials that the council had just warned her would come over the next few years; waiting to break grim news to Sammi could only hinder her in what was to come.  
  
With a hiss, the door to the 'fresher opened and Sammi emerged, her face still slightly splotched with pink. Amila finished dishing out two plates of salad and sat them on the table.  
  
"Sammi," she began, "I need to talk to you.."  
  
Before she could finish her sentence, Sammi had broken in. "Master, I'm sorry, I don't know what happened, with Ray, I mean, and I guess."  
  
"Sammi!" Amila interjected, stopping her Padawan's tirade cold. "I didn't mean about Ray."  
  
Sammi's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and she tilted her head almost suspiciously. "Master," she began, "there's something wrong, isn't there." It wasn't a question. "Really wrong."  
  
Amila nodded. "Padawan, I-don't really know how to tell you this; there isn't an easy way for me to say it."  
  
The teenager gave her Master a quizzical look.  
  
"A war has started, hon. A real war." A faint gasp. "I don't know everything; I don't know if even the Council does, but there are some serious problems in the Galaxy. We know this much: The Seperatists who've left the Republic have attacked the Jedi. There was a run-in on a planet called Geonosis, where Obi-Wan, Anakin, and some Senator woman were trapped. Master Windu and several other Jedi went to rescue them, they were attacked by the Seperatist army, and a lot of them were killed. Apparently Master Yoda came to the rescue with-you won't believe this-an army of clones that Obi-Wan had discovered, which was then turned over to Chancellor Palpatine, who was granted emerency powers to create an army by the Senate. A war has begun.  
  
"Things are going to change here, hon," Amila said, sadness and desperation making her voice sound as though it were carrying the weight of ages. "Things are going to change a lot."  
  
Sammi didn't speak. In a daze of shock, she simply sat, rocking slowly back and forth. Amila pushed back her chair and walked around the table to stand beside her Padawan. When she saw how close to tears the girl was, she knelt beside the chair and held out her arms. The girl fell into them, sobbing softly.  
  
"I don't want things to change," Sammi wept into her Master's shoulder.  
  
Amila held her Padawan back from her body for a moment, looking deeply into the girl's sapphire-blue eyes. "Change is a part of life, Sammi, and we are Jedi. We are sworn to preserve life, in all its forms."  
  
"And death too?" Sammi accused, tears streaking her face. "Death is also a part of life. Are we sworn to protect it?"  
  
"Sometimes we must accept death, Sammi. Sometimes, death may be the only option. You're young, and this is hard for you to understand, but the day comes for every living thing when they know that it is their time to die. When that day comes for you, Sammi, and I pray it may be far in the future, you must accept it. You will accept it, because death is the way of the Force, and the Force speaks to you, Sammi. That is why you are a Jedi. The Force will tell you when you must become a part of it."  
  
"There is no death, there is the Force?" Sammi quoted bitterly.  
  
"That is a part of what I'm trying to say, but the Code doesn't eclipse everything I want you to know. Let me try and explain. For there to be life, there must be death, and as such, death is a part of the Force. You are a Jedi, Sammi, and the Force speaks to you more clearly than it does to others. When your time comes to join it, it will let you know, and when it does, you'll be ready to face the unknown."  
  
Sammi shook her head. "I don't understand. Aren't we sworn to preserve life?"  
  
"Yes, when others seek to destroy it before its time. And that is why there must be war. There are paradoxes, you see. How do you know if it is your enemy's time to die, for example? Can you cause death to protect life? It can't always be explained, but if you trust in the Force and remember that fear and hate are of the dark side, then Light will guide you."  
  
Sammi sat back, scrubbing her hand across her eyes. She understood her Master's wisdom, but she also feared the changes that would sweep her life and, she knew-was it precognition from the Force, or simply intelligent insight?-that she would have to grow up faster than she had ever intended. 


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two  
  
"Don't want bwocolli," Criat, a normally cheerful, bouncy four-year-old pouted at Sammi.  
  
"Well, when I was an initiate, I didn't like broccoli either, you know," Sammi began, a convincing expression on her face.  
  
Criat tilted his head suspiciously at the teenager. "Weally?"  
  
"Really. But Master Amila made a deal with me. She said that if I only ate one piece every time the kitchens served it, I'd still grow up big and strong. And she let me have a cookie for dessert. That's called a compromise."  
  
"A what?"  
  
"A compromise. When two people disagree over something, they decide on a solution that includes a little bit of both people's wishes. That's a compromise. So, in my case, I only had to eat a little bit of broccoli, and I still got cookies, but Master Amila got me to eat some vegetables. Does that sound like a fair compromise between you and me?"  
  
"I think so," puzzled Criat, stabbing a small piece of the hated vegetable on his fork. He sniffed at it, made a face.  
  
"Oh, and, by the way, if you hold your nose and swallow really fast you can't taste it," Sammi added with a bright grin.  
  
In a flash, the little initiate clamped his button nose in one hand and gulped down the piece of broccoli, following it closely with almost an entire glass of milk.  
  
He made another face. "It's still yucky."  
  
"Yeah, but you can have a cookie now, sweetheart. I'm proud of you. That was very brave."  
  
He smiled brightly, pleased at the praise, and Sammi moved on to the other side of the table where the little initiates were messily finishing their dinners. After Amila's frightening revelation the night before, Sammi had tried to push aside her fears and concentrate even more on the crèche and the children in it. As a blue-skinned Twi'lek girl sidled up beside the Padawan, tears on her face, Sammi pushed aside her thoughts to deal with the next crisis.  
  
"What's wrong, Ooshla?" The teenager asked, fishing a tissue from out of one of her pockets to brush at the little girl's eyes. The girl didn't say anything, but held out her pudgy arms in the universal sign for "give me a hug." Sammi obliged, and, feeling the little one start crying into her shoulder again, whispered softly into the baby's ear.  
  
"Can you tell me what's wrong, sweetie?"  
  
Ooshla sniffled. "Don't want to go to bed," she whimpered. As the initiates headed to their cots for storytime and then sleep almost immediately after dinner, they often used mealtime to try and bargain for later bedtimes, but Sammi had never seen any of them cry over it before.  
  
"Why not, honey? Is something wrong?"  
  
"Scary people in dreams," the little Twi'lek explained.  
  
"Oh, you've been having bad dreams," Sammi understood. "Do you want to talk about them?"  
  
"Don't understand them. There's a gold person, and a gray person, and he looks gray 'cause he's dark, but he's pretending to be light and he talks to the gold man and makes him turn all shadowy and then the shadow man turns gold again and the gray man turns into dust and its really scary."  
  
Instantly, Ooshla began sobbing again, leaving Sammi dizzily confused. The little Twi'lek had never shown signs of precognition or prophecy in her Force-gift, but it was highly unlikely that a dream with such strong color metaphors could be anything else. The Padawan sighed, then crouched down beside the little girl.  
  
"Ooshla, sweetie, I think you should go and tell Master Amila about your dream. Tell her just what you told me, and then she can make it go away. All right?"  
  
The girl nodded solemnly and ran off towards Sammi's Master, who was on the other side of the room settling a custody battle over a bright red toy speeder. Sammi saw the girl, sapphire head-tails flapping behind her, approach the motherly Master, heard a soft exchange, saw Amila's brow furrow, apparently coming to the same conclusion as her Padawan had, and watched as Amila drew her gentle hand over Ooshla's temples and focused the Force on the little girl, soothing away her nightmare and her short-term memory of the dream. For that night, at least, the child would not be haunted.  
  
That evening, Sammi met Regan and Ray in her suite as she had the night before. Regan's entrance was considerably more subdued than usual, and the three of them remained silent for a moment as they gathered on the couch, looking out the window to the Temple's highest spire and, beyond that, the vast expanse of city, glittering with brilliant lights. They reflected, each lost in their own thoughts, on what the future held in store for them, then simlutaneously looked up at each other.  
  
Sammi blushed sweetly as she studied Ray's face, seeing as if for the first time the sparkle in his brandy-brown eyes, the clean sheen of his caramel hair, and the warm tan of his skin. His eyes were fixed on her, so neither noticed Regan's lonely smile as she watched her two closest friends fall in love.  
  
All three of them had been told about the Clone Wars; it was no secret in the Temple now that so many Jedi had left on missions and not returned, now that clonetroopers marched in colossal formations just outside the window.  
  
Regan stood up and walked over to the window, deep in thought, leaving Sammi and Ray next to each other on the couch. Terrified that she was being too forward, but even more afraid to do nothing, Sammi leaned over and rested her head briefly on Ray's shoulder. He almost jumped, but then a slow, shy grin began to light up his face and he put his arm around her and began to toy with her silky hair.  
  
The three Padawans sat in companionable silence for several moments, Sammi and Ray simply enjoying each other's company, Regan just watching, half lonely, half overjoyed to see the two people she cared about most find happiness, fearing that the time they would have left together was too short to waste.  
  
All of a sudden, the door to the chambers burst open, and a red-eyed, human girl about Sammi's age stumbled in, sobbing hysterically.  
  
All three Padawans jumped to their feet. "Karina, what is it?" Sammi asked.  
  
"Sammi-I-," Karina, who had been another member of Sammi's old creche group, could barely stop crying for long enough to reply. "Master Sharra," a sob, "was on," she wept, "Geonosis." Karina had barely sobbed out the last word before a storm of hysterical tears wracked her body. Regan and Sammi, who were closer to Karina than Ray, looked at each other, then made the connection in their head and rushed to the crying girl. As Karina collapsed into Regan's shoulder, Sammi heard the door slide open, and a grim-faced Amila glided into the room, followed closely by Master Yoda. Regan gently led Karina to the couch and sat her down; Amila strode across the room to sit beside her.  
  
"Sorry, I am, to come to you with such sad news, Padawan," Yoda began. "Fought bravely, your master did, but little consolation this brings to you."  
  
Karina looked up, her face splotched with red and tear-streaked. She didn't speak, but listened closely to the wizened Master's words.  
  
"Comfort I cannot bring you, Padawan. Powerful, your grief is. But fade, it will, with time." Yoda gave a mournful sigh. "Tried, Master Windu did, to bring only those Masters without Padawans to Geonosis with him, but needed, your Master Sharra was. So sorry for you, I am. Sad times, these are, and lose many more great Jedi, we will, before this war is done."  
  
"Master," Karina started, her voice wavery and weak, "what will happen to me now?"  
  
"Stay with your friends, you may, until another Master can be found for you. Become a Jedi, you still will, Karina."  
  
Amila put an arm around the crying girl. "Karina, you can stay with Sammi and me for now, or with Regan and Master Sacha if you want. Things are bad, I know, but they'll get better."  
  
"Yes, stay with your friends, you should. Comfort, they can bring you, for strong, you all must be." 


	4. Chapter 3

Well, I'm back with the next chapter, and hoping for more reviews. It's finally time for Obi-Wan to show up again! Enjoy!  
  
I don't own Star Wars.but you already know that.  
  
Chapter Three  
  
Sammi had never hated funerals so passionately. As the Force-lit flames of the pyre consumed the body of yet another Jedi who had died fighting the Separatists, she tried to recall each sad occasion that she had attended over the last month since Geonosis and the beginnings of the Clone War. The harsh smells of the burning bodies, the eerie wailings of the victim's loved ones, the smears of leaping flames, and, worst, she thought, the grimy feeling of ashes in the air that never quite faded, formed a painful blur in her mind punctuated only by the emotional memory of Karina's Master's funeral, which had culminated in Karina attempting to throw herself onto the pyre and being forcibly restrained by Master Windu and several other older Jedi.  
  
Karina was still, after nearly two weeks, sedated in the Healer's wing. Ray and Regan, however, came by Sammi's rooms every night, and the three of them would go visit their friend. Master Yoda, after seeing the young Padawan's stricken face relaxed for the first time since Geonosis, had decided to ease the girl quite slowly off of the drugs that aided her sleep, and her status as a Padawan had been thrown into doubt by the violence of her trauma.  
  
Since the terrible news of the battle arrived at the Temple, Sammi hadn't seen or heard from Obi-Wan, who normally greeted Sammi and her friends when he returned from missions. His Padawan was similarly absent. When she questioned Master Amila, the crèche master looked puzzled and said that Obi- Wan had indeed returned to the Temple after the battle.  
  
A sudden touch at her elbow pulled Sammi from her thoughts; she looked up from the tiled floor into Ray's now-saddened eyes. Regan, bronze hair pulled back from her neck in an unusually reserved style, stood behind him.  
  
"How've things been?" Ray asked quietly.  
  
Sammi shrugged. "You'd be amazed at the effect all this," she gestured to the mourning throng of Jedi, and the body on the pyre, "has on the little ones. They cry so easily now, and they're never into mischief anymore, even the harmless kind." She heaved a sigh. "I'm surprised at the effect its had on me."  
  
Regan graced her with an encouraging smile and opened her mouth to speak when the three Padawans heard a wonderfully familiar voice from nearby.  
  
"How are you, little ones?" Obi-Wan Kenobi said with a big smile that only barely managed to lighten the worry in his green-blue eyes.  
  
"Master Obi-Wan!" Sammi grinned, then let him enfold her in a friendly hug. "We're fine," she said against his chest, "but how are you?"  
  
He shook his head. "Oh, I'm fine, just worried. It's.well, Anakin's been even more unpredictable than usual lately. At first I though he'd had some sort of spat with Senator Amidala; he had the most painful crush on her, he has for years. He escorted her back to her home planet after Geonosis, but when he got back, he didn't say a word about her." And then.."  
  
"There's more?" Regan interrupted.  
  
"Oh, yes, there's more. For weeks before this whole mess he'd been worried about these dreams of his mother. I know he went to Tatooine, and I was sure he'd gone to find her, but he hasn't said another word about her since."  
  
"That's really weird," Sammi said, for lack of anything better to add.  
  
"And you heard about his arm, right?" Obi-Wan continued.  
  
"They said he lost it in a duel," Regan explained. "The leader of the Separatists was a Jedi who turned to the Dark Side."  
  
Obi-Wan ran his hands through shoulder-length gingery hair. "He won't talk about that, either. I just don't know what to do with him anymore. He has these mood swings, and sometimes he just lashes out at me for whatever I may happen to say." He gave a heavy sigh. "What can I do, if he won't talk to me?"  
  
"We could try and talk with him, but I think he's been avoiding us," Ray suggested.  
  
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "He's been avoiding everybody! But try, if you do see him. Maybe you three can talk some sense into him, though I really wouldn't bet on it."  
  
  
  
After the funeral, Sammi returned to the crèche to find a roomful of listless, melancholy initiates who clung weepy-eyed to her legs as soon as she entered.  
  
Andra, a tiny girl with blue-black hair, quicksilver eyes, and pale white skin-a study in contrast, and if truth be told, Sammi's favorite child of the group-spoke for all of the babies. "Don't leave us anymore, or you won't come back," she pleaded.  
  
Sammi looked at her, shocked at the depth of the initiates' fright. "Oh, darling," she began comfortingly, wrapping the child, and several others nearby, into a warm hug, "I'll always come back to you. I love you all too much to leave."  
  
"Promise?" the little girl demanded, and Sammi could only agree.  
  
"I promise."  
  
"You know," a cheerful voice from above stated, "you shouldn't make promises to these imps; they have ways of making you keep them."  
  
The little ones were as good as gone. "ObiObiObi!" was the general consensus, from what Sammi could understand. She grinned, as lost to the older Master's charm as the babies, as Obi-Wan scooped up one squirming form after another, delivering kisses, hair tousles, and, at the general demanding of the babies, his "present," a handful of toy lightsabers, easy- to-grip handles attached to a rod of floppy, clear plastic with flashing blue or green lights inside.  
  
Sammi groaned as she offered Obi-Wan a seat. "Obi-Wan, it's not even Festival Week; you don't have to get them presents."  
  
"It's my apology for me not visiting enough," he explained with a wink, and Sammi couldn't help but be amused as Criat, the little initiate who loathed broccoli, and Andra scooped up two of them and began to duel. Sammi stood up worriedly at her first glimpse of the wild swinging.  
  
Obi-Wan pulled her back into her chair. "Don't worry, they're extremely soft; as long as you keep an eye on them, no one will get hurt." Indeed, the little initiates had settled into rather peaceful sparring; it looked as though the dark-haired girl and the bouncy human boy would both grow into very talented swordsmen.  
  
As Sammi and Obi-Wan settled back down to watch the childish battle, the hiss of the opening door startled Padawan, Knight, and initiates alike.  
  
"Master?" a tight voice spoke into the sudden silence.  
  
"Obi-Wan moved swiftly to his feet. "Anakin? Is something the matter?"  
  
The taller young man stepped into the room. "No, Master Yoda said you wanted to talk to me." His voice was smooth, almost alluring, as it had always sounded to Sammi, but something else, elusive and dark, touched it now. From where Sammi sat, his bright blue eyes looked as light-filled as always, but then Anakin's intent look swept the room, glancing over the children and the long-haired Knight, and, for a moment, meeting Sammi's gaze.  
  
She was nothing less than overwhelmed by the emotions that raged in his eyes now, nothing to which she could put a name, but encompassing everything from rage to love to grief, and so powerful that, for a moment, she just gaped. Anakin broke eye contact with her, almost boredly.  
  
Obi-Wan walked over to the blonde man. "Yes, I was hoping you'd be willing to sit down and have a conversation with me." His voice, to Sammi, sounded almost pleading, but it obviously sounded different to Anakin.  
  
"I'm not really interested in sharing my feelings with you, Master," he rejoined curtly, almost rudely.  
  
As she listened to the budding argument, Sammi's eyes traveled from Anakin's glowering face to his arm, a golden robotic replica of a real hand. She wondered why he hadn't replaced the missing limb with a more realistic prosthetic. Pride, maybe? Or a mark of something he had gained- or lost?-in that battle?  
  
"Anakin, please," Obi-Wan began, but the younger man spun on his heel and stalked off, lip curled.  
  
The Knight collapsed back into his chair, and the initiates resumed their war, blissfully, childishly unaware of what had just passed before them.  
  
"See what I mean by mood swings?" he commented dryly, bitterly, and Sammi could only nod.  
  
She decided to offer her opinion. "When the little ones are very upset, or worried, about something, they get like that, you know."  
  
"If he won't talk, I can't figure out what's wrong, Sammi," Obi-Wan observed wryly.  
  
She snorted. "If I get the chance to talk with him, I will, but if he's in that kind of mood.." She trailed off.  
  
"Believe me, I understand," Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. With a sudden change in his own mood, he stood up, turned to the initiates, grinned cheerfully, and bid them farewell, sliding smoothly out the door.  
  
  
  
Rask, a chubby Rodian boy, sidled up to Sammi, who was still sprawled in the chair where Obi-Wan had left her. "Obi's Padawan angry," he noted. Maybe, Sammi realized, the initiates were more aware than she realized.  
  
She held out her arms, and Rask climbed into her lap. Rodians, like human babies, had a distinct, though not unpleasant smell. While human little ones always smelled vaguely milky-sweet, the Rodian baby had a muskier scent, reminiscent of cedar shavings. Sammi inhaled deeply, letting the boy cuddle against her chest before responding to him.  
  
"Yes, but I don't know why," she said, answering what Rask's next question would have been before he could voice it.  
  
"Maybe he's sad," the tiny child offered, startling Sammi into nearly dropping him. Master Yoda's oft-quoted phrase-"truly wonderful, the mind of a child is"-leapt immediately to her mind.  
  
The first movement that came to Sammi's mind was to ruffle the boy's hair and agree. The first part failed right off, as the Rodian was a bit short on hair to tousle, but she quicky squeezed his shoulder before speaking.  
  
"You may be right," Sammi concurred. "In fact, I bet you are!" Rask gave what passed for a brilliant grin on a Rodian's tight-pinched mouth, scurried off the girl's lap, scooped up one of the unclaimed toy sabers- flashing green to match his skin-and joined the ongoing battle.  
  
  
  
When Regan and Ray appeared at Sammi's door that night, the pale-haired girl shared with them everything that had happened that day in the creche, with an especially long description of the way Anakin had acted.  
  
"-And his eyes," she exclaimed, "you know how they always had that depth to them?" Ray rolled his own warm brown eyes at this statement, groaning audibly when his sister answered in the affirmative. He grew serious when Sammi continued, though.  
  
"They're still deep, but they're so.." She broke off. "I can't even think of a word."  
  
"Blue?" Regan offered with a impish grin.  
  
Sammi gave a brief laugh. "I was thinking more like poignant, or passionate, or something. It was like I could read them, there was so much there."  
  
"So there's something bothering him? Really bothering him?" Ray suggested.  
  
Sammi tilted her head. "That's what Rask said," she recalled.  
  
Regan looked confused. 'Rask? That little Rodian boy?"  
  
"The very same," Sammi nodded. "Actually, Obi-Wan knows that something is wrong, he just can't figure out what."  
  
Regan rested her head on her knee for a moment, looking dejected. "I have no idea.how could any of us? So much happened on Geonosis that even the Council doesn't know about!"  
  
Ray shrugged. "We could go ask him."  
  
"If he's in the same mood he was in this morning, he'd probably bite our heads off," Sammi pointed out. The three sat in companionable silence for a moment, thinking, until Ray spoke up.  
  
"Let's go talk to Obi-Wan. He won't mind having a visitor, and, if nothing else, he can tell us more about Geonosis."  
  
"He might not even be there," Regan pointed out.  
  
"Well, we can go see, can't we?" Ray argued.  
  
Sammi had been gazing out the window during the twins' exchange, suddenly smiling to herself. "It sounds like a bad holovid, you know. 'Mystery at the Jedi Temple.'"  
  
All three Padawans laughed, but, as if in unspoken agreement, stood and turned towards the door.  
  
"So let's solve it," Ray said with a shrug. 


	5. Chapter 4

Okay, here's the next chapter. Just a few little notes I have to establish here.  
  
First of all, BlackWings/Master Solo, thank you so much for your reviews. You have my undying gratitude. :--)  
  
Second, just a reminder, I don't own Star Wars. Obviously.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Four  
  
The quarters which Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker shared were located near the base of the northernmost spire, making for a fairly long walk for the young Padawans. One couldn't get lost in the Temple, but the three teenagers chose a roundabout route, taking them past the main entrance to the salle as well as through the greenhouse where much of the Temple's produce was grown. It took them several minutes to reach Obi-Wan's door.  
  
Every set of chambers in the Temple had a small placard on the outside door, with the engraved name of Master and Padawan. Sammi noticed that the 'y' in 'Skywalker' was slightly lopsided, giving it the impression of a starfighter taking off-typical Anakin, she thought.  
  
Her hand moved up to knock on the door when she suddenly stopped dead. Regan, noticing the pale-haired girl's hesitation, shot her a quizzical look. Sammi held a finger to her lips, and the twins listened closely to the noise that had distracted her.  
  
From inside Obi-Wan's chamber, a woman's voice was laughing.  
  
"..survive on love, then, if the galaxy can't support us," Anakin's warm, silken, and instantly recognizable voice was saying.  
  
Sammi couldn't understand the woman's response, but heard bell-like tones of mirth in her voice. When the sweet voice grew serious, the words, questioning, became clearer. "..love is enough? When everything's against us?"  
  
"It'll-" Anakin broke off suddenly, and Sammi heard him hiss, "I have to go."  
  
Realizing that the older Padawan must have heard or sensed them, she banged on the door, not wanting to look as though they'd been eavesdropping-which, she reflected, they had been. The door hissed angrily as it slid open before them.  
  
Anakin's voice when he spoke was calm, but the speed of his breathing belied a much greater tension. "Hello? Is there something you need?" There was just the right amount of sarcasm behind his words to mask any emotion that might have lain there.  
  
Sammi, still shocked at what she had heard, opened her mouth to speak and realized that she had forgotten what to say. Regan stepped in for her. "We were wondering if Master Obi-Wan was here," she began.  
  
"He's not." The teenaged Padawan interrupted shortly. "I'll tell him you came by - you're Regan, right? Master Sacha's Padawan?"  
  
"Yeah," Regan breathed, and opened her mouth to speak again when Anakin broke in.  
  
"Bye," he said, and flashed her the smile that had won the hearts of very many female Padawans over the ten years he'd spent at the Temple. It didn't warm his eyes. With a sudden twist that only Sammi could see, it warped into a sneer, and the door hissed shut, locking panel flashing red.  
  
"That didn't go well," understated Ray.  
  
"He knew my name," Regan murmured, sounding at once surprised, proud, and very much in love.  
  
"And he seemed in a hurry to be rid of us," Sammi pointed out, ignoring her best friend's ecstasies. "I wonder who he was talking to?"  
  
At that, the door shot open again, and all three teenagers were pulled inside the room and tossed onto a sofa. "What did you hear?" Anakin accused, face a mask of rage. Regan shrank back against the couch at his expression, and the only thing Sammi could hear was a mental echo of Rask, the Rodian baby's, words - "maybe he's sad."  
  
She spoke before she could stop herself. "Are you sad?"  
  
The defensive anger fled his face instantly, replacing itself with a look that molded utter confusion with the matched syntax of "are you crazy?"  
  
"What are you talking about?" Anakin exclaimed, sounding almost sulky behind his surprise.  
  
Regan stopped looking terrified and directed her gaze to Sammi.  
  
"I - I mean, you seem so upset," the blonde girl stammered, "not about us eavesdropping, I mean - just - about everything."  
  
Anger gone, Anakin looked utterly disarmed. "Upset? Why are you asking me this? You don't even know me." The sulky-sarcastic snap was back in his voice.  
  
Sammi continued, entirely without thinking. " Master Obi-Wan's worried about you, you know."  
  
"Worried? He's too busy criticizing everything I do to worry!" The golden haired Padawan complained.  
  
"No, he is worried!" Sammi exclaimed, surprised at this pronouncement. "He cares about you so much!"  
  
Anakin's face went blank for a moment; he closed his eyes, as if in pain. Then, almost as if Sammi had imagined the look, his eyes grew cold. "You didn't answer my question. What did you hear?"  
  
"You were talking to a woman. I didn't understand what you said," Sammi admitted, meeting his icy-blue eyes, the color of sapphires, and just as cold.  
  
"No, you didn't. In fact, you didn't hear anything at all when you walked by, do you understand me?"  
  
"I'm going to tell Obi-Wan," Sammi stated. "He'll know who you were talking to."  
  
There was a flash of panic on Anakin's face, then a brief calculating look before he spoke. "No, please, don't tell my Master. He'll make me stop speaking with her." His eyes pleaded for the Padawans' silence. "I love her. More than anything."  
  
Sammi felt her heart give way, empathizing with the emotions Anakin was projecting, emotions whose falsity would have been blatantly obvious to anyone but a teenager in love herself. Anakin's secret would stay his own for a time yet.  
  
The older boy led the other three Padawans to the door. Before he slid it open he begged again, "Please don't tell Obi-Wan what I was doing." Sammi nodded her agreement, and he gave a pitiful smile. "Thank you so much."  
  
When the door slammed shut behind her, out of the spell of Anakin's eyes, Sammi began to realize that the episode had answered none of her questions, and left her with many more. As the three teenagers walked back to their rooms, Sammi turned the meeting over and over in her mind, realizing with increasing certainty that Anakin's pitiful act had indeed been nothing but an act, meant to put off her questions about the older boy's emotional state and the identity of the girl to whom he'd been professing his love. Had Anakin really read her clearly enough to know the one statement with which she would sympathize? Sammi didn't doubt it.  
  
Nor did she doubt that Anakin was indeed in love. Nevertheless, his act had been false; there was something important he had held back. He didn't fear being forced to stop talking to the mystery girl, but some deeper worry troubled his thoughts.  
  
It figured, Sammi reflected, that when she'd gone to look for answers, she'd ended up with only more questions. 


	6. Chapter 5

Ok, a couple of author's notes. First of all, please, please, please help me out and review this. Any constructive criticism is welcome - I'm trying to make this story better.   
Also, thanks to BlackWings/Master Solo and SpazticPoetGrl for your reviews...they are much appreciated.  
  
Finally, a short note about the Jedi policy on relationships in the story. I know that canon really says that no romantic relationships are allowed among Jedi, but in the story, they are allowed but not encouraged among Padawans, Padawans are expressly forbidden to marry anyone, and Knights and Masters may only wed within the Order. Just to clear that up.  
  
One more thing, this story is an Episode III speculation fic. It is not intended to be AU, it follows what I thknk the story will be from Sammi's point of view. That does mean that good people die when the Empire takes over; if that bothers you, don't read this fic.  
  
  
Chapter Five  
  
  
  
"Blast!"  
  
Sammi slapped her hand to her forehead and groaned.  
  
"I can't believe," she said to herself out loud, "that I could forget the Festival presents!"  
  
Amila, grinning with quite festive seasonal cheer, poked her head into Sammi's room.  
  
"And I can't believe that you're talking to yourself! But you don't see me complaining."  
  
"Master!" Sammi exclaimed. "I left the new storydisks I was going to give the initiates for Festival in the salle after practice last night!"  
  
"Well," said Amila, rolling her eyes, "go and get them!"  
  
Sammi laughed, somewhat ruefully. "I wasn't really asking for your advice, Master," she explained with a bright grin, "I was just stating facts."  
  
"Whatever you say, Padawan. But I think all of this holiday cheer is getting to you." With a bell-like laugh, she left the room.  
  
Though the war news, deaths, and continual grieving of the Clone Wars still rocked the Temple, all of Coruscant seemed to be coming out to make sure that this Festival season wasn't dimmed by the pervading sadness and worry. The Jedi Temple was no exception, and everyone seemed to be in a good mood.  
  
Sammi, Regan, and Ray hadn't forgotten about Anakin Skywalker and the enigmas surrounding him, either, but in the rush of holiday excitement, the mystery had been pushed aside. It had been more than a month since the three Padawans had overheard his conversation with the unknown girl, and nothing more about her or about Anakin's strange behavior had presented itself.  
  
Tomorrow was Festival Day, though, and Sammi needed to get the new storydisks wrapped and ready to give to the crèche children. She remembered exactly where she'd left them, in one of the storage chambers in the far end of the salle, and straightening her tunic, she headed towards the large saber practice room.  
  
The salle actually consisted of three smaller arenas, with adjoining walls that could be removed to have a more space-consuming duel. Beams crisscrossed the ceiling overhead, where the more acrobatic Jedi could carry on their battles far above the ground, and a fenced-off perimeter allowed others to watch ongoing duels. Several storage rooms and changing rooms adjoined the main room, and it was the second chamber along the back wall in which Sammi had left her presents.  
  
When she opened the main door to the salle, Sammi could hear the hissing buzz of an ignited lightsaber, and the soft whir of training droids. In itself, that wasn't odd. What was odd, on the other hand, was the sudden whine and wail of metal being burnt.  
  
Sammi stepped into the viewing perimeter. Anakin Skywalker, blue lightsaber ignited to its highest power, was facing off against five training droids, each wielding a saber blade of white light. A sixth droid lay in scorched pieces near Anakin's feet, still glowing faintly red where the young Jedi's lightsaber had sliced through it.  
  
He gestured towards the still-smoldering shrapnel with his left hand, and the dismembered head of the training droid lifted from the ground and hurled itself at the droid farthest to Anakin's right. The droid went flying, smashing into the back wall of the salle with a resounding bang.  
  
Anakin drew back his saber, and, in a parody of fury, flew into battle with the remaining droids. They didn't stand a chance, and the tall Padawan hacked them to bits mercilessly.  
  
Sammi gaped, stunned. She'd watched many a battle in the salle, and seen untold duels. No one - no one - ever outright destroyed the training droids. One might incapacitate them, but the six droids in the salle, still sparking where wires had torn, were beyond any hope of repair. She could also feel waves of emotion coming from the training chamber, and they matched nothing she had ever felt in a duel at the Temple. Through the Force, one might sense a competitive spirit during a battle, a desire to win, even a passion for victory. Anakin raged. He attacked with pure aggression, and Sammi felt his every emotion, projected to her through the Force as clearly as if they were glowing beams of light.  
  
Anakin turned, and Sammi ducked back outside the room. She felt him focus the Force, and there was a sudden feeling of explosion in her mind, then a sense of him stalking towards the doorway in which she was standing.   
  
Sammi jerked back, and dodged into a side hallway, watching him stride pass her. There was a dark glower to his face, and—were those ashes? —on the hem of his robe.  
  
After the blonde Padawan disappeared around a corner, Sammi walked back into the salle. A scorched spot on the floor and a slightly metallic tang to the air were the only traces left of the fallen training droids. Had Anakin simply destroyed them? Sammi didn't doubt that, power-wise, he was capable of incinerating a pile of metal with his mind, but . . . .  
  
Her festive spirit was gone now, as obliterated as the six droids, but she still slid into the room where she had left the storydisks, and scooped up the package. She returned to her chambers, but with a much heavier heart than when she'd left it.  
  
  
Sammi had picked out a separate story for each one of the nineteen children in the crèche group, though she didn't put nametags on the packages, since they were all to be shared equally. A few of the book were her old childhood favorites, though nothing she had ever read had seemed to match the excitement of the fairy tale Obi-Wan had told her the first time she'd seen him.  
  
As she enfolded each story in the colorful paper, she puzzled over Anakin and the anger that seemed to haunt him. Furrowing her forehead, though, she pushed away the insidious words that nudged the back of her mind, and tried to worry about Festival and the children.  
  
The forced train of thought, though, was suddenly aided when a grinning Ray, colorful rainbow garlands draped over his head and shoulders, stepped into the room.  
  
"Happy Festival!" He exclaimed, and draped a bunch of multicolored ribbons over her shoulders as a very gaudy stole.  
  
"Uh, Ray, Festival's tomorrow," she laughed, heart lightening immediately. She put her hand to his forehead. "Are you feeling all right?"  
  
"Wonderful!" the Padawan laughed brightly. "I'm just getting in the holiday spirit a little early!" His brow furrowed. "Master Koru doesn't seem too happy about it, though."  
  
Sammi giggled, imagining what the stern Master's reaction might have been to Ray's clowning.  
  
"Ah, presents, I see," Ray noted, scooping up an armful of the now-wrapped stories. "Some new bedtime tales?"  
  
"It's what they asked for," Sammi explained. "They're actually from me and Master Amila, but I'm the one who's going to end up reading them." She frowned. "Not that I resent that, actually. I love telling them stories, especially when it takes their minds off heavier things."  
  
Ray ignored the reference to the war; though he stored it in the back of his mind, he wanted to distract Sammi—and himself—from troubled thoughts. "Well, Regan's waiting in the crèche for us. We're supposed to be keeping an eye on the little ones while Master Amila helps get everything organized for tomorrow."  
  
  
  
  
  
The crèche was a wonderland. Festival was a winter holiday, and, though the Jedi children growing up on climate-controlled Coruscant had never seen snow, the giant shimmering snowflakes that decorated the walls gave a delightfully joyful feel to the room. Colorful garlands and streamers crisscrossed the ceiling, and the children, surprisingly enough, had refrained from tearing them down in excited play.   
  
The lightsabers that Obi-Wan had given the children a month ago were very much in evidence, as several of the young ones swatted at each other with the glowing toys. The subdued fear of the war had been forgotten, and the children played with all of their former abandon.   
  
Regan sat cross-legged on the poufy cushions that were scattered across the floor, supervising the "saber practice." When the door hissed open to admit Sammi and Ray, she stood up to greet them.  
  
"Happy Festival, Sammi." Her eyes traveled over the colorful tangles of ribbon adorning Sammi and her brother. A corner of her mouth twitched with subdued laughter.  
  
"Right! I almost forgot!" Ray said, pulling more handfuls of ribbon from the pocket of his robe and draping them over his twin.  
  
An excited pack of initiates chose that moment to rush over to the three Padawans and attach themselves to the older children's legs. Sammi couldn't make out much over the general din, but "Festival!" "Party!" and "Presents!" seemed to be the general idea.   
  
She laughed with abandon, feeling, for an instant, absolute joy at their perfect innocence. "Festival's tomorrow, darlings, you know."  
  
Allie, a wispy Zabrak girl with ten iridescent horns crowning her head, tugged on Sammi's pant leg. She looked down at the brightly smiling little girl. "We know. But it's so much fun!"  
  
By the time the little ones had pulled the ribbons off of Sammi and the twins, adorning themselves with the recycled decorations, Sammi was laughing gleefully, worries truly forgotten.  
  
  
  
  
Festival was the observance of year's turning, a celebration of the new and a cleansing away of the old. Once the younger children were tucked into bed, the older Padawans and Masters stayed awake to watch the dawn of the first day of the new year. Festivities continued throughout the night, and in the morning gifts were exchanged among friends.  
  
Even the climate-controlled, polluted atmosphere of Coruscant could not dim the glory of the rising sun, bringing with it a new year, and—Force-willing—a new hope for peace. Sammi sat, half dozing off, her head rested against Master Amila's shoulder, when Amila gently shook the girl awake to point out the sunrise.  
  
Amila sent a pulse of wordless love along the Master-Padawan bond, and Sammi dragged her eyes open to see the glory of pinks, purples, oranges and golds painted in broad swaths of color across the brightening sky.  
  
With a sudden feeling of calm, an absolute trust in the Force, Sammi stretched out her feelings to embrace the world and everything in it, a celebration of love. She withdrew painfully, though, when the shock of shadowy hate scored like a burn across her Force-sense, the militant coldness of the Clone army. She shivered.  
  
When Sammi looked into her Master's face, though, motherly love and comfort washed away the feeling of violation, and, when Ray and Regan, accompanied by their respective Masters, came in the door without knocking, Sammi realized that, war or no, she could find happiness in the universe, in the peace of her friends.  
  
  
  
When Amila and Sammi entered the crèche that morning to wake up the initiates, the shining joy on each little face moved Sammi beyond her ability to describe, and the little pulses of elation in the Force as they unwrapped the new storydisks awoke in her a protective instinct she hadn't known she had.   
  
Andra, the dark-haired human girl, rested her tousled head against Sammi's shoulder. "Will you read us a story now?" "Please?" she added as an afterthought.  
  
The other little ones responded immediately with a chorus of agreement. Amila watched as Sammi picked out one of the stories randomly from the pile, and the children formed a semi-circle around the comfortable cushion where she was perched.  
  
She slid the disk into a datapad to activate the words on the screen, then pushed the small button on the disk that turned on the holographic projector of the illustrations beside her.  
  
"The Baby Angel," she read aloud, her words warm and soothing as she wove the tale of a young angel, a type of wispy creature more light than substance from the moons of Iego, who one day became separated from his parents and ended up on a spaceship that took him to a planet very different from his home. The angel was the most beautiful creature the people there had ever seen, and though at first they wanted to keep him, they, with much reluctance, sent him home, where he was reunited with his family after gaining great insight on the rest of the galaxy.  
  
Sammi read two more tales before the initiates were distracted, suddenly, by the hiss of the opening door.  
  
Obi-Wan Kenobi walked into the room, cheerful smile plastered to his face, bearing an armful of presents for the children, which they tore open with great gusto, jumping up and down around the Knight pleading for hugs. He granted them their wishes, and the initiates shrieked with glee, with a noise that probably matched the sound of a space station exploding in volume.  
  
Sammi couldn't resist going up for a hug herself. The handsome Knight kissed her on the cheek and murmured, "Happy Festival, Sammi."  
  
When she looked in his eyes, though, she saw pain there that she couldn't have imagined.  
  
She sat down hard, and he folded himself to the ground beside her. Amila ignored their conversation, instead watching the children busily setting to work with their new gifts, which included a set of blocks that seemed to defy gravity with the help of tiny repulsojets.  
  
"What's wrong, Obi-Wan?" Sammi asked, not entirely sure she wanted to know the answer.  
  
"Anakin's gone. He left a note, saying he'd be back tomorrow morning, without a word about where he'd gone or what he was doing."  
  
The young knight's face was in his hands, and he looked almost as though he were trying not to cry. His voice was hoarse when he spoke again, in a low tone that Sammi could barely hear and wasn't sure she was supposed to. "Does he hate me so much, then, that he couldn't stay for Festival?" It sounded—resigned, almost, and that terrified Sammi as nothing else could have.  
  
"He doesn't hate you," she blurted. "How could he…you love him so much." Her voice died out as she recalled Anakin's words to her a month before.   
  
"He's too busy criticizing everything I do…" Anakin, somehow ignoring all reality, had indeed convinced himself that Obi-Wan didn't love him. He'd been talking to that girl, the nameless one, but Sammi couldn't tell Obi-Wan that; she had promised not to, though, as she though more about it, Anakin hadn't been entirely ethical in obtaining that promise.  
  
They sat in silence, then Obi-Wan spoke again. "They're sending us out again. There's a huge Separatist faction on a backwater planet somewhere…Dantooine, I think, and they want me to act as general for the army. There's a whole team of Jedi coming, though I don't know who's on it yet."  
  
Sammi couldn't breathe. They were sending him back into battle, against the army that had massacred so many Jedi already. "When…when are you leaving?"  
  
"Tomorrow afternoon. And I won't even be able to tell Anakin to get ready until tomorrow morning…." His voice was tight with pain when he spoke his Padawan's name. "I don't understand what's happening to him."   
  
  
  
  
When Sammi returned to her quarters that evening, the second blow fell. When she opened the door, Ray was already sitting there, his face white and twisted with anguish.  
  
"Sammi," he said, a tremor in his voice, "they're sending me to Dantooine." 


End file.
